


One Step Closer

by NelyafinweFeanorion



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Maitimo and Findekano in the early years, No Angst, The Two Trees of Valinor, Trying to sort out their feelings, Years of the Trees, created for the Tolkien Secret Santa 2018, exam preparations, gratuitous inventions of Feanor's mentioned, mention of siblings - Freeform, mentions of cousins, they're both oblivious but finally starting to catch on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NelyafinweFeanorion/pseuds/NelyafinweFeanorion
Summary: Maitimo and Findekano in Valinor during the time of the Two Trees when they are first realizing their feelings for each other. Mutual pining, both painfully oblivious to each other's true feelings. Maitimo is helping Findekano study for his upcoming examinations and they naturally are spending an significant amount of time alone together which brings their repressed feelings for each other further to the fore. They have support from an unexpected source.





	One Step Closer

**Author's Note:**

> written for @rosengreen for the Tolkien Secret Santa 2018 for the request of "a Silmarillion based fic with Maedhros and Fingon."

 

It was warmer than usual today, Findekáno thought. The kind of day where he would rather be by the shore, in Alqualondë, than in this musty old library.

Except here he was with Maitimo. It was preferable, even with the heat, to be near him.

It wasn’t as if the heat troubled him, really. It never bothered any of them. It just made the air feel heavier, the surroundings oppressive, the whole room stale and dusty. He glanced out the window again, eyes taking in the leaves rustling in the trees.

There was a breeze outside. The market would be in full swing by now as well, rich with the scents of sizzling meats, fragrant pastries, glorious ripening fruit. It made his mouth water just thinking about it.

He dragged his gaze from the window and back down to the book in front of him. Binomial coefficients couldn’t hold his attention on a good day. There was no chance of immersing himself in them today. He kicked the leg of his chair in irritation and sighed. How many days in a row had he been in this library, at this very table?

“Maitimo.” He kept his voice low.

No response.

“Maitimo!” A little bit louder. The librarian shot him a venomous look from his desk across the room but Findekáno didn’t care. There were two other people in the library on this sunny afternoon—one was the librarian and the other was Maitimo himself.

Maitimo, who was bent over his book, taking copious notes and completely oblivious to his surroundings. And to Findekáno’s lack of concentration.

Findekáno looked at him. Took this moment to drink in the sight of him.

The slender, strong fingers gripping the quill. The comfortable way Maitimo was resting his head on his hand as he copied the relevant passage down. The graceful tumble of brilliant hair, twin side braids gracefully in place, the rest of the unfettered coppery waves falling over his shoulders in a distinctly distracting fashion.

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion. Nelyo to his family. Russandol to his friends. Maitimo to those closest to him and always to Findekáno. Scion of House Finwë. Brilliant scholar. Skilled orator, surpassed only by his father. Occasional Craftsman. Magnificent Athlete. Well-traveled wanderer.

Maitimo was all those things. But he was also the one Findekáno loved.

Not that Maitimo knew that, of course. Findekáno had only managed to admit it to himself recently.

They had always been comfortable in each other’s company, since Findekáno’s distant youth. At family gatherings, summers spent in Formenos, trips to Alqualondë, hunting just the two of them or with the irrepressible duo of Irissë and Tyelko.

These long days of enforced study, in preparation for Findekáno’s upcoming exams, had them together more than ever.

Maitimo had been his first tutor, all those years ago when he was a child, and was likely to be his last. Nolofinwë had drafted his brilliant nephew to help Findekáno organize his study sessions and maintain the diligence of his study habits. Exams were still many weeks away but the curriculum was rigorous and the testing process arduous and intense.

Mornings were for review sessions and afternoons for self-guided studying. Hence the dreaded binomials. Tomorrow morning’s session was to focus on that topic and Findekáno knew better than to be unprepared. Maitimo was a strict taskmaster who took the subjects seriously.

Only Fëanaro’s long ago scores surpassed Maitimo’s; there was no scholar who had even come close to Fëanaro before Maitimo had undertaken his exams. He had left the examiners agape at his eloquence. Every inch his father’s son that day and Fëanaro had glowed with pride in his eldest son’s accomplishments.

Findekáno remembered it vividly, squashed in the gallery, seated between his father and Aunt Nerdanel. It seemed as if all of Tirion had turned up to watch Maitimo sit for his exams.

They had watched in breathless silence as he had answered the endless questions and Findekáno privately reveled in the skilled way Maitimo had spun the examiners queries into brilliant treatises on the chosen subject that overwhelmed the questioners themselves.

It had been utterly magnificent.

There had been no question of who his father would trust with Findekáno’s exam preparation. It could only be Maitimo.

Relations were comfortable between their fathers at this time but it had been far easier for Nolofinwë to approach Maitimo with this project than Fëanaro, who was busy managing a veritable stable of apprentices, a household with seven sons and workshops in Tirion and Formenos.

That suited Findekáno far better anyway. Maitimo was an excellent tutor; innovative, patient, persistent, and usually also able to tell when his charge had reached his limit of enforced studiousness. He was a diligent student under normal circumstances but these endless weeks of daily, compulsory academic review were wearing on him. And when the subjects were binomials or the laws of thermodynamics Findekano’s usual forbearance wore thin.

Maitimo’s head lifted and he caught Findekáno watching him. He smiled, that slow crooked smile that was so uniquely his, and put his quill down. “Had enough, then?”

Findekáno melodramatically slumped over his book. “I was wondering when you’d finally notice that the binomials had defeated me.”

The smile grew wider. “You’re not applying yourself. I should know better than to let you sit near a window, after what you did last time you got distracted. It’s no good. You keep looking outside. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“It’s stifling in here. I was just longing for a breeze.”

“You are utterly incorrigible. Uncle Nolo will have my hide if I keep giving you afternoons off.”

“You aren’t giving me the afternoon off. It's been weeks since you’ve let me off for even a few hours. It's already late, almost time for the Mingling. If we’re lucky we might make it to the market in time to get some of that flavored ice you like so much.” It was Findekáno’s turn to grin.

Maitimo shook his head. “You know you’re the one with the sweet tooth.” He closed the book in front of him. “All right, then. It’s obvious you’re not going to make any more headway this afternoon and I’d rather have you alert and ready to go in the morning. Pack up your things.”

The market crowds had thinned by the time they reached the square. Some of the stalls were closing down for the day but the ice vendor was still plying his wares.

They strolled through the dwindling merchants, Maitimo with his favored peach ice and Findekáno with a brilliantly hued raspberry one.

“It may not be one of your father’s most complicated inventions but it certainly must be one of his most celebrated,” Findekáno said, nodding at the ice concoction in his hand.

“The flavored ice? That was just happenstance,” Maitimo replied. “His flint wasn’t working properly and the wood he had gathered wasn’t dry enough. To his eternal annoyance even he couldn’t start a fire that day. His idea was to chip the ice, so it would melt faster, with the decreased surface area of ice chips as opposed to larger pieces.” He stopped to take a bite of his treat. “But without a fire even that wasn’t happening as fast as he would have liked. He had some dried fruit with him so he just dumped it on the ice chips and ate them together, counting on the ice melting in his mouth and providing him with the hydration he needed.”

“And fruit ice was invented,” Findekáno said.

“In a manner of speaking. It was more convenience than anything else at the time, a way to make eating the plain ice chips more palatable. Father just sort of stumbled on the idea.” Maitimo grinned.  “And really it was Mother who came up with it as a treat, when he told her what had happened. After she had shouted at him a bit about not having enough flint and for his poor technique at fuel gathering, of course.”

“When was that?”

“Oh, before I was born. That was one of his trips to harvest ice for her, so he wasn’t meant to be gone for long.”

“Another of your father’s more useful inventions—ice boxes.” Findekáno laughed.

Maitimo shook his head. “That his most celebrated creations are a flavored ice treat and a method to keep food cold—not the distinction he had expected, when he first apprenticed with Mahtan!”

“Don’t forget the lamps! Those are justly renowned,” Findekáno added. “Although their existence does mean you make me stay up studying far later than I would like.”

“You would stay up, lamps or no lamps.”

“I’m not the morning person you are, Maitimo.” Findekáno applied himself to his treat; he had been talking too much and it was rapidly starting to melt.

They continued in silence for a few moments, intent on their flavored ices as they made their way back to the Palace.

“I suppose we shouldn’t have gotten a treat so late in the day,” Maitimo said thoughtfully. “Indis will expect us at dinner soon.”

“Hasn’t spoiled my appetite. Doubt it’s affected yours. You know Grandmother loves the company and doesn’t fuss so much about how much we eat. Not anymore, at least.” Findekano scooped the last syrupy dregs of his ice and then tossed the waxed container in a nearby bin.

“But please tell me you’re not going to make me go back to the binomials after dinner. Really, Maitimo, I can’t do it. Not tonight.” He put his most pitiful expression on full display.

Maitimo laughed. It was truly the most glorious sound. Findekáno could listen to that all day. Maitimo didn’t laugh often enough, in his opinion. It had long ago become his mission to bring such joyous moments to his cousin. To make Maitimo let loose and laugh.

He was far too serious, Findekáno thought. Tasked with overseeing his brothers at a young age, pursuing his studies with an unmatched dedication and intensity, joining their grandfather’s staff even before his studies were completed, continuing to aid Grandfather and Findekáno’s own father with the day to day running of the city. Not to mention the tutoring he was providing and the independent studies he currently was undertaking in linguistics and language. There was no question: Maitimo worked too hard, spent so much of his time taking care of others, looking out for other people’s interests, and rarely focusing on himself.

It wasn’t fair. If Maitimo wouldn’t look out for himself then Findekáno would do it for him. Although it would likely have to wait until after his exams, he thought gloomily.

Just weeks away the upcoming exams loomed large on the horizon. Findekáno had no expectation to reach or even come close to Maitimo’s marks. But he owed it to himself, to his father and to Maitimo to do the best he could. He needed to have a respectable showing. It would reflect poorly on Father and Maitimo if he did not.

He squared his shoulders and gave a sidelong look at his companion. Maitimo was savoring the last drops of his treat, tilting the cup up to swallow the liquid remnants of the now-melted ice, the long line of his neck exposed and highlighted in the dimming light of Mingling. His hair gleamed a burnished red-gold.

He was breathtaking. There was no other word for it. Findekano let his eyes drift over that beloved face. He ached to reach out, to step closer so that their arms could brush against each other as they walked, to have the courage to take Maitimo’s hand in his own.

No. He wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

There were moments he thought Maitimo might feel the same way, moments when he would catch a wistful expression on his face, times when Maitimo would quickly look away when Findekáno turned towards him, when a faint flush would stain his alabaster cheeks.

He was probably just reading too much into it. Hoping for more where there was only steadfast familial regard, nothing more.

He would tell himself that, in the nights, as his mind wandered to thoughts of Maitimo. That this was just a crush, that it would pass, that he shouldn’t burden Maitimo with this revelation.

But it hadn’t passed. Years had gone by and Findekáno’s affection for him had only grown stronger, deepened, increased in its intensity. He longed to speak of it, confess his feelings to him. But despite his hope that Maitimo might feel similarly he was more afraid of what would happen if he did not.

The damage that could be done to their relationship if Findekáno spoke out. Maitimo would be polite and kind, there was no question of that. But it would devastate Findekáno if Maitimo withdrew, distanced himself.

He couldn’t live with that. He didn’t want to risk that. That left staying silent and pining in isolation as his only option.

“You’ve grown quite pensive, Finno. What’s on your mind? Don’t tell me it’s the binomials because I know it’s not. You care for them so little I can’t imagine they are preying on your mind at the moment.” Maitimo’s voice interrupted Findekáno’s internal turmoil.

“Then you’d be sadly mistaken. They are preoccupying me for that very reason; I hate them so and I know you are going to take me to task tomorrow morning about how abysmal I am at them and I am dreading that.” Findekáno was grateful Maitimo had given him such an easy excuse to deflect the question.

Maitimo’s expression became serious and he put his hand on Findekáno’s shoulder, his gait slowing to a stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel so awful about them. They aren’t a significant portion of the entire process but the examiners do like to trot out questions about them unexpectedly. I just wanted you to be prepared. I didn’t intend to make you so anxious over the subject.” His fingers squeezed Findekano’s shoulder sympathetically and he could feel the warmth of Maitimo’s touch through his tunic.

He couldn’t help leaning toward Maitimo. “It’s not on you. I got lazy and distracted this afternoon. It’s my own fault for making them a bigger deal than they should be and for weeks spent shunning them instead of being focused on the subject. I promise I’ll be alert and studious tomorrow morning, Maitimo, I mean it.”

Maitimo’s arm slid over his shoulders and pulled Findekáno closer. “You can do this, you know. I’m just walking you through it all—you know it and you’ll be fine.” He tugged on one of Findekáno’s braids. “Just think—in a few weeks you’ll be done and you can go to Alqualondë to relax and frolic in the waves with Findarato and the rest.”

“You’ll come too, won’t you? Come celebrate with me?”

Maitimo frowned. “It all depends on how much work Grandfather has saved up for me. He’s given me this time off,” the frown smoothed away and his face grew amused “because it’s you and we all know you’re his favorite.” He grinned down at Findekáno.

“Please. We all know you’re Grandfather’s favorite. There’s never been any question of that.” Findekáno swallowed and then ventured to say something more. “You’re everyone’s favorite, Maitimo.”

“Not yours, I’m sure. Not when I’m such a strict and boring taskmaster.” Maitimo’s words were meant to be teasing but his tone didn’t sound like it usually did when he was being facetious. Findekano saw his those silver eyes dart in his direction and then quickly away.

This was one of those moments.

One of those moments that made him wonder.

“You’ve always been my favorite, Maitimo. You’ve known that for years. And nothing can ever change that.” There. He’d said it. With a serious tone of voice, not a playful one. That had to mean something to him, didn’t it?

Maitimo’s fingers squeezed his shoulder. Findekáno looked up to see a faint flush on his companion’s face. “You’re mine as well, Finno, but mind you don’t tell any of the others.” Findekano’s heart raced at the admission but he kept his demeanor calm as Maitimo continued speaking. “I’d never hear the end of it from Irissë or Artanis.”

Findekáno snorted. “They think they are everyone’s favorites just because the two of them are the only girls.” He shook his head. “Irissë might be Tyelko’s favorite but only because she’s as wild as he is and loves Huan near as much as he does. And you know Findaráto is overly partial to Artanis. She can do no wrong as far as he’s concerned. It’s revolting what she gets away with.”

Maitimo laughed again and Findekáno soaked up the sound. He spoke into the silence that followed. “You really don’t think Grandfather would let you come to Alqualondë with me?”

Maitimo dropped his arm from Findekáno’s shoulders and shrugged. “I can ask. We’ll see what he says. I am sure you’ll be having so much fun that after a day or so you won’t even miss me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, crossing the gates into the courtyard of Finwë’s palace, then Maitimo spoke again. “If I can’t come with you we’ll think of something else to do later. Think of something you want to do and we’ll plan on it.”

“I want to go beyond the reaches.” The words spilled out of Findekano before he fully thought them through. Now that they were out he kept on going. “I want you to take me north. I want to see the snow and ice. Could we do that, Maitimo? Just the two of us?”

“The ice? You can’t be serious, Finno. You know you don’t like the cold. You hate even hiking partway up Taniquetil at festival time. The north will be days of that.”

He might not like the cold but the idea of huddling together with Maitimo next to a warm fire held great appeal.

As did sharing a tent again. It had been a long time since they had traveled together, just the two of them. Far too long. Findekano wanted this, he wanted uninterrupted time with Maitimo.

Time to sort his thoughts out and perhaps . . . perhaps time to finally speak of these feelings of his as well.

“I’m absolutely serious. If you don’t want to go north then think of something else, Maitimo. But let’s do something together, anything, to celebrate being done with these blasted exams when they are over.”

Maitimo’s face was thoughtful, his lips pressed together in a firm line, but his eyes were alight with a silver glow in the Mingling and fixed on Findekáno—focused, intent—searching his face, as if hunting for some unspoken meaning behind his words. 

There were a whole host of unspoken words but this was not the time or place for them, Findekano thought. He held Maitimo’s gaze, hoping his companion found what he was seeking in his eyes.

Maitimo finally nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “Seems you’re not tired of my company yet, despite all the drudgery I’m putting you through. I’ll think of something suitable and we’ll make it happen. I’ll speak to Grandfather tonight, after the meal.” His eyes met Findekano’s again, soft and warm this time.

Something that had been tightly wound in anticipation loosed in Findekano’s chest at Maitimo’s words. “Good. You know Grandfather can never say no to you.” He flashed his most mischievous grin and Maitimo answered with one of his own.

“That’s Father you’re thinking of, not me. But Grandfather might be convinced to let me go,” Maitimo raised an eyebrow before continuing “if he thinks you’re dutifully applying yourself to your studies.”

Findekáno groaned. “I knew it. I knew you were going to bring it all back to the studying again. Haven’t I proven myself already, with these endless weeks of living in the library?”

“It doesn’t prove anything until you sit for the examinations. Now come on, stop dawdling, Finno. It won’t do either of us any good in our cause if we’re late for dinner again.”

They went their separate ways once they reached the Palace, to dress for the evening meal.

Maitimo dressed quickly, choosing his robes without much thought. He darted a glance in the mirror and decided he would do. It was just a family dinner tonight, after all.

He took a few deep breaths. He needed to compose himself before this meal. His relatives were nothing if not observant and his mind was too much of a jumble at the moment to be sanguine in their presence. He counted to ten and breathed in once more.

Findekáno’s words and demeanor had made that treacherous hope rise up in him again. That yearning he determinedly kept under wraps, suppressed and sealed away.

As much as was possible to keep suppressed when he was in Findekáno’s company day after day.

It was a futile hope, that he could possibly harbor the same emotions. Maitimo had spent years schooling his features, stilling his rapid heartbeat, perfecting the unruffled bearing that he showed the world when he was in Findekáno’s company. There was no reason to change that.

But still . . . there were moments—fleeting moments that Maitimo convinced himself were simply wishful thinking—when there was a look in Findekáno’s eyes that made him wonder.

Like today.

When he had looked up in the library to see Findekáno staring at him so intently, as if he were searching for something in Maitimo’s answering gaze.

When he had so calmly stated that he preferred Maitimo to all the others, said it with a measured tone, not in the joking, bantering manner that was so uniquely Findekáno’s.

Findekáno had been so fervent in his appeal to spend time with him, away from the city, away from their families, away from their responsibilities and obligations—alone, just the two of them. There was true disappointment in his voice when Maitimo had mentioned his duties to Grandfather.

The duties had been an excuse. Grandfather rarely refused him anything, despite his earlier protestations to Findekáno. Finwë certainly never objected to his beloved grandchildren spending time together.

Maitimo had tried to avoid spending extended time alone with him because of his own ever-increasing affections.. These uninterrupted weeks preparing Findekáno for his examinations were proving increasingly challenging. He couldn’t be sure he would be able to keep this unrequited regard to himself if they were alone and in close quarters.

But days like today had made him question if perhaps he was deluding himself with his denials. That perhaps unrequited was not the correct term for his current state.

Perhaps unspoken was more accurate. For both of them.

Dinner was a lively affair, as usual. Aunt Irimë was her irrepressible self and Uncle Nolofinwë was in a jovial mood, his questioning on Findekáno’s scholarly progress kept in check by Aunt Anairë’s chiding, leading him to amuse them all with stories of Irissë’s latest escapades.

It was no surprise that Tyelko and the twins figured prominently in his narrative.

Uncle Arafinwë drily added tales of his own recent tribulations with Artanis, much to everyone’s amusement. Their family’s youngest member was incorrigible. That was probably the most diplomatic way to put it.

Grandfather was in similarly good spirits and Indis was kind, as always.  The food was plentiful and mouth-wateringly good.

But Maitimo found himself picking at the portions on his plate, pushing the food around absently. He blamed it on the late afternoon treat but he knew that was just an excuse.

He couldn’t help his gaze being drawn to Findekáno.

Findekáno, whose appetite had in no way been diminished by the recent fruit ice and was currently heaping second helpings of everything on his plate.

Findekáno, who threw his head back and roared with laughter at his father’s story of Irissë and the unexpected bee hive.

Findekáno, who kept darting his eyes towards Maitimo and giving him a smile that was both unfamiliar and stirring in its intensity.

Maitimo could feel the heat flood his face at that expression and rapidly gulped down his water in response.

“Are you all right, Maitimo?” Indis asked. “If I didn’t know you’d been spending the day in the library keeping our dear Findekáno in line I’d wonder if you hadn’t gotten too much sun today.” She glanced over at Findekáno fondly and then tilted her head at Maitimo. “Or perhaps just too many treats at the market.” She winked and then turned her attention back to Irimë on her left, giving Maitimo another brief sidelong look of amusement.

It was hard to keep anything from Indis. She knew the doings of Tirion better than any of them, her ladies-in-waiting overly solicitous and demure in public but so observant and devoted to their mistress. They observed everything and reported back to her in dutiful fashion. It was the way Indis helped Finwë, in her own inimitable fashion. Her networks traversed the city and environs and no one was the wiser.

Except for her family, of course, who had learned the hard way that honesty was the best policy with regard to their minor transgressions. Somehow Grandfather and Indis always knew the real story, despite even Artanis’ bold but mostly ineffectual attempts at elaborate fabrications and counter-arguments. She was the youngest so she should have known better, after being endlessly admonished by her for-once in accord older siblings and cousins that such attempts were futile. But Artanis didn’t take well to being told what to do.

Maitimo made a valiant effort to eat some of the food on his plate. It was proving challenging keeping his eyes off Findekáno, after the tumultuous thoughts he had engaged in earlier and the searching looks being directed at him from across the table. Time and time again he found his gaze drawn in his direction only to find Findekáno’s eyes on him already.

It was proving a significant distraction. Maitimo had not been able to effectively concentrate on the conversations going on around the table and finally resorted to simply nodding at intervals to retain an outward appearance of engagement.

“I think the tutoring is wearing you out, Nelyo,” Finwë said to him softly, as the voices around them continued their spirited exchanges. Grandfather was seated next to him and he reached out and gently patted Maitimo’s hand. “I know you are working hard with him. Findekáno does not lack for brilliance but he is somewhat challenged when trying to stay focused for such an extended period of time.” Grandfather leaned in even closer, his words for Maitimo’s ears only. “Good job on keeping him sufficiently engaged that he hasn’t escaped out the window yet this week.”

Maitimo darted a surprised glance at his grandfather who was grinning back at him. He had told Findekáno that the tree was in direct view of Grandfather’s office. He had told him weeks ago.

It had been thermodynamics that day.  Findekano had complained so endlessly about needing a break that day, pointed out how they had been at it for over two weeks without interruption, that Maitimo had actually considered going outside to continue their lesson in the cool shade of the garden. But he had restrained himself, chided himself for humoring Findekáno too easily, for not being a serious enough influence on his younger companion. Maitimo had spent similar seemingly endless hours with his father, studying for his own exams, just a few years before. It could be done. Breaks were too indulgent, as exam time drew closer.

He had sternly reproved Findekáno and gone to the library shelves to find more treatises on the subject only to return to their table to find Findekáno had gone missing. The tree out the window was shaking far more than the slight breeze could account for and Maitimo had poked his head out only to find his charge shimmying down the tree with a speed and alacrity that was far more determined than his studying had been. “I’m taking a break. You can find me in the garden, Maitimo,” Findekáno had hissed up at him, once he had reached the courtyard stones.

To his everlasting mortification, Maitimo had done just that. He had grabbed the treatises, whisked them out from under the aghast librarian’s very nose and high-tailed it to the willow tree near the fountain at the back of Finwë gardens.

It had not been their most successful review session but it had been a guilty pleasure for Maitimo, to lay on the lush green grass that day and look up at the brilliant sky through the gently waving branches of the willow tree, the soothing sounds of the nearby fountain concealing their hushed voices from any who might seek them out, Findekáno’s proximity as he lay a fingerbreadth away from him both a delight and a distraction. The world had shrunk down to the equally brilliant blue of Findekano’s eyes and Maitimo could not bring himself to coerce his recalcitrant pupil back into the confines of the stuffy library.

Findekáno truly had needed a few hours to decompress and Maitimo had been too rigid to allow it that day, resulting in his charge taking matters into his own hands. They had different ways of coping with the stress and Maitimo needed to take that into consideration in his lesson planning.

Finwë patted his grandson’s hand once again, pulling Maitimo’s attention back to the moment. “You’re doing fine, Nelyo. I know you’ve got your work cut out for you keeping him on task. But that’s why Nolo asked you to do it. You’re the only one Findekáno actually listens to—he’s focusing far better under your tutelage than he would under his father or either of his uncles.” His gaze softened. “You are a natural at this. My one regret is that I take so much time away from your own research and interests, to help me manage my affairs. You would have made an exemplary professor, Nelyo.”

“Thank you.” Maitimo squeezed his grandfather’s hand back in gratitude for his words. “You know how much I appreciate my time with you, helping you and Uncle Nolo in any way I can. As you have said to me before, these are things I must learn first-hand, if I am to be responsible for any aspect of the administration of Tirion.” His own crooked smile surfaced. “And trust me, I have a feeling I’ll be pressed into service by Uncle Nolo and Uncle Ara again soon. I have far too many younger cousins to think this will be my only foray into examination tutoring.”

Finwë laughed at his words. “You are quite right about that, Nelyo. I’d be surprised if Findis doesn’t draft you to help her Laurefindilë, when his time comes as well.”

“I fear I shall be spending the majority of my time the next few years tutoring rather than assisting you, in that case!”

“I do not envy you the task when it comes time for Irissë, Ambarrussa or Artanis.” Finwë laughed again at the pained look on his eldest grandson’s face.

“Irissë I can handle. Ambarussa too. It’s Artanis I dread the most. She can argue her way around anything.” Maitimo grinned. “The examiners heads will be spinning so soundly they may just end up passing her to get her to stop expounding on her points.”

“That girl will keep you all on your toes, trust my words, Nelyo.”

With dinner over the family moved to the balcony, to enjoy the mild evening and soft silver light of Telperion, wines and sweets circulating among them.

Finwë watched his grandsons thoughtfully. It was past time to speak to Maitimo he decided. The signs were there, in both of them, for anyone who knew to look. So far even his astute and observant sons had failed to notice what had become so apparent to him.

These boys both thought they were being subtle and covert in the way they surreptitiously observed each other. They had been attuned to one another for years--the manner in which the two of them instinctively sought each other out at their small family gatherings, in the vast galleries during galas, at the city festivals, in the quiet peace of the garden at Mingling. It was familiar to Finwë but of late the intensity and quality of it had changed.

He knew the signs. He had seen it himself, lived it himself, those long-ago years in Cuiviénen.

They had loved differently then, under the starlight. Those who had awoken first had reached out to each other for comfort and company, with no mind to gender. They had not known, in that early time after awakening what their physical differences even signified. All they knew is that they were meant for each other, the only ones of their kind, awakening in a world of darkness lit only by the canopy of brilliant stars above.

Finwë had loved Elwë first, loved him as a friend and more. They had found ease and contentment in each other’s company and eventually in each other’s bodies as well. It was a companionable relationship, comforting and comfortable, not the intense, fiery bonding of souls his later connection with Miriel had awakened.

There was no proscription to those relations in that other world. He had mourned the loss of his friend as deeply as he had later mourned Miriel. Perhaps not with the same searing agony but with the same depth of loss. Loss not only for them both, but for the freedom and lack of constraint they had in Cuiviénen. They were not judged for who they loved there. They were not limited to loving only one, for eternity there.

The Valar had given them a home, a safe haven, a bountiful, glorious domain that encouraged their minds to seek previously unforeseen interests, to hone skills that benefitted them all, to explore the gifts of their intellect in ways the brutal harshness of life in Endórë could not allow. 

But they had also put restrictions on them, encouraged certain behaviours, downplayed other interests, indoctrinated a significant portion of their number in a certain way of life, steered their efforts at self-determination in different directions, at times even curtailing it.

Finwë’s own life, his seeking comfort and companionship with Indis, after Miriel’s demise, was not left to his discretion. His choice, his need, his self-determination—those were not truly his own. He had to seek the Valar’s approval to join with another companion, to be able to openly love the woman who had lifted his heart from the darkness it had succumbed to, to share a life with Indis who had loved Miriel herself and who had been prepared to love his son as her own.

It had been years of strife, debate, counter-arguments, concessions and the final requirement that Miriel forsake re-embodiment for all eternity. His ire still rose at the thought. They could do nothing to heal his first wife yet they were determined to constrain him to live in solitude and cause his son to go forward without a mother figure near him for all eternity, rather than consent to a second marriage. It had been an ordeal and in many ways had nearly fractured his relationships with Fëanaro and Indis herself.

He had prevailed in the end, to what eternal price he did not know. But his life was full—full of love and light and children he treasured and grandchildren he adored.

Finwë wanted happiness for his sons and their children. Happiness, safety, contentment, and the right to love as their hearts willed. Not as was willed upon them.

Yes, it was high time he spoke to Maitimo. Time to tell his grandson that his heart was not a traitor, that his hidden love was not abhorrent or aberrant. That he should not feel shame and discomfort at where his heart led him.

Maitimo and Findekano’s hearts were meant to be together. Their souls called out to each other. It was cruel to let them both be stifled by convention and the imposed morality of those who could not understand.

He would speak to Maitimo first, then Findekáno if necessary. They needed to know he supported them in this.

He’d sort his sons out later.

**Author's Note:**

> this aligns with the details, timeframe and world of my story "What is Lost."
> 
> Laurefindilë is a reference to Glorfindel in his youth in Valinor.


End file.
